Józef Beer’s Rediscovered Operetta Returns With Musical Brilliance Despite an Overloaded Production
By Zenaida des Aubris(Photo: Krzysztof Mystkowski/ Baltic Opera Festival)
Józef Beer’s “Polish Wedding” is one of those works in which history seems almost as dramatic as its plot. Premiered in Zurich in 1937 under the title “Polnische Hochzeit,” the operetta became an immediate international success, was translated into eight languages (but not Polish), and quickly established itself across Europe. Then history intervened. As a Jewish-born composer from Lviv, Beer saw his career abruptly curtailed by the rise of the Nazi regime, and the work disappeared from the repertoire for decades.
Its staging at the Baltic Opera Festival in Gdańsk was therefore more than a revival. With its libretto by Fritz Löhner-Beda and Alfred Grünwald, it was an act of cultural restoration, allowing audiences to rediscover a composer whose talent places him comfortably alongside the great masters of the Central European operetta tradition.
Set during the period of the Russian Partition of Poland, the story follows Bolesław, the son of a Polish patriot forced into exile, who secretly returns home disguised as a farmhand. He yearns to reunite with Jadzia, his childhood sweetheart, only to discover that she is being pressured into marrying her wealthy and thoroughly ridiculous elderly uncle, Count Staszek Zagórski. What begins as a familiar tale of young love obstructed by social convention gradually transforms into a more eccentric blend of satire, political commentary, and broad comedy.
A Production That Trusts Excess Too Much
Paweł Miśkiewicz’s staging clearly views the work less as an operetta and more as a commentary on Polish mythology and national self-image. The production multi-layers folkloric imagery with symbols of repression, sexuality, and social hypocrisy. Barbara Hanicka designed an atmospheric set dominated by a spherical background that reflected weather patterns and ended with a most colorful outburst of floral curtains. Marta Szypulska designed traditional costumes as well as extraordinary whimsical ones, which coexist with leather outfits, fetishistic accessories, animal skins, and even set deliberately grotesque visual jokes.
At its best, the approach acknowledges that Beer’s work contains more bite than many conventional operettas. The second half, in particular, reveals a subversive streak beneath the surface charm, and Miśkiewicz rightly recognizes that the piece is capable of supporting satire as well as romance.
Yet the production often mistakes excess for insight. The stage is so crowded with ideas, symbols, and interpolated theatrical additions that the operetta’s natural wit frequently becomes obscured. Most problematic were the inserted sequences not found in Beer’s original conception, notably the lamentations of five brides at the beginning of the second part. Intended, perhaps, as a feminist counterpoint to the romantic plot, the episode felt dramatically static and musically disconnected from the sparkling momentum of Beer’s score.
Elsewhere, the humor often drifted toward caricature. The production’s parody of Polish folkloric dance was occasionally amusing, but its relentless accumulation of visual gags ultimately diminished rather than sharpened the satire. What might have landed as pointed social commentary instead became exhausting.
Beer’s Score Emerges Triumphant
Fortunately, the evening’s greatest asset was the work itself.
Beer’s score proved to be a revelation. Drawing on operetta, opera, Polish folk traditions, klezmer influences, jazz, and dance music, he created a sound world that feels remarkably fresh even today. Echoes of Franz Lehár, Emmerich Kálmán, and even early American musical theater can be detected, yet Beer never sounds derivative.
The music moves with extraordinary theatrical instinct. Melodies arrive in abundance, ensembles unfold with effortless fluency, fleeting into dance numbers letting the rhythmic vitality rarely slacken. Unlike many rediscovered works that return primarily for historical reasons, “Polish Wedding” immediately makes the case for its own artistic value.
The Baltic Opera Festival deserves considerable credit for championing a score that has been unjustly neglected for nearly nine decades.
An Outstanding Ensemble
The cast approached the work with commitment and style.
Piotr Buszewski as Bolesław delivered the evening’s central performance. His bright, ringing tenor navigated Beer’s demanding writing with confidence and elegance. The role sits high and requires both lyric warmth and heroic projection, qualities that Buszewski supplied in abundance. His stage presence anchored the performance even when the production threatened to overwhelm the narrative.
Monika Radecka brought warmth and vocal security to Jadzia. Her polished soprano projected easily through the orchestral textures, and she shaped Beer’s lyrical lines with natural grace. She also succeeded in giving emotional credibility to a character who can easily become overshadowed by the surrounding comic chaos.
The evening’s scene-stealer was Marta Wiktorzak as Zuza. Combining vocal brilliance with impeccable comic timing, she navigated the production’s abrupt stylistic shifts more successfully than anyone else on stage. Every appearance generated energy, and she repeatedly drew the audience’s strongest reactions. Her performance possessed the rare quality of appearing completely spontaneous while remaining technically assured.
Among the comic characters, Grzegorz Szostak excelled as the old Count Staszek Zagórski. Costumed in one of the production’s more outrageous creations, complete with a pig’s tail, he transformed the would-be villain into a figure of delightful absurdity. Jerzy Butryn matched him effectively as Jadzia’s father, Baron Ogiński, bringing authority, vocal solidity, and excellent comic instincts.
Illuminating Music
The musical performance remained the evening’s strongest argument for the work’s continued life. The Orchestra of the Wroclaw Opera under the fluent direction of Lukasz Borowicz captured the stylistic diversity of Beer’s score with considerable flair, from its sweeping operetta melodies to its jazz-inflected passages. Borowicz fully understood how imaginatively Beer integrated popular musical idioms into his very own musical language. Although the contributions of the Andrzej Jagodziński Trio were musically interesting, it was questionable why their participation was even deemed necessary, as their ex-score numbers did little to contribute or elevate the score’s innate cosmopolitan character
Many forgotten operas and operettas return to the stage as historical curiosities. “Polish Wedding” does not belong in that category. Nearly ninety years after its premiere, Beer’s work still feels alive, entertaining, and surprisingly modern. Its blend of romance, satire, and musical invention speaks directly to contemporary audiences while retaining the charm of the interwar operetta tradition.
If the production occasionally buried the piece beneath an excess of symbolism, interpolation, and visual clutter, the quality of the score and the excellence of the performers consistently shone through. The Baltic Opera Festival has performed an important service by restoring this remarkable work to public view. One leaves the theater with a simple question: why did it take so long for Józef Beer’s masterpiece to return?